


Scrambled Eggs

by Curlew



Category: Starsky and Hutch - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Hutch Angst, Missing scene Shootout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24273733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curlew/pseuds/Curlew
Summary: Missing scene from Shootout. Hutch frets. As he does.Continued in Green Beans.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Scrambled Eggs

Working on automatic pilot, Hutch handed the scene over to the uniforms. Technically, as the ranking officer he should have stayed, but no power on earth was going to keep him from Starsky now. Curran was a reliable, experienced cop- and he took Hutch’s brief report and the tablecloth bundle of guns with a nod. 

“It’s OK, sir- we’ll handle it from here. You’ll want to go in the ambulance. Good luck”

Hutch gripped the blue clad forearm in silent gratitude, and was just in time to hop into the ambulance as the doors were closing - too late for the outraged paramedics to evict him. 

‘How’s he doing?” Before anyone could answer, a slurred voice from the gurney said-

“He is still hungry. Come keep me company, Blondie - where you been?”

Hutch maneuvered himself to Starsky’s head out of the medics’ way and took the groping hand.

“Bad guys and guns to secure. You look as if you’re feeling no pain”

“Gotta love morphine. Hutch- we’re not going to be talking for a while. So you listen and listen good. I know you. I don’t want you doing any thinking til I’m there to put you straight. None of this was your fault. Ok?”

Hutch smiled and brushed an errant curl out of Starsky’s eyes.

“You just concentrate on mending and leave my brain alone”

Starsky’s eyes fluttered closed “Too risky to leave it to you...... your brain’s .....my responsibil......” His voice tailed off as the morphine took him.

45 minutes later, a kindly nurse detached his hand - he seemed to have forgotten how to do it himself- so they could wheel Starsky away for surgery. 

“Are you all right, Sergeant?”

“Yeah, I’m fine”

She looked doubtful, but led him to the waiting room and sat him down.  
“It’ll be a while and you look wiped. why don’t you go home? If you give me your number, I promise to call you the second there’s news”

“No. I’m staying.” Whatever he did or didn’t know, he knew that. Once again the nurse hesitated, then went away - to come back a few minutes later with a blanket, which she wrapped round him, and a cup of coffee.

“You heard Dr Franklin- he’ll be fine. The surgery’s tricky, but straightforward”

“He couldn’t feel anything down his left side. He couldn’t move his left hand”

“That was the swelling pressing on his spinal cord- the doctor was very confident it was only temporary”

“He couldn’t be sure..and he’s left handed...”

His brain was crowded by images- himself desperately trying to produce a reaction in Starsky’s left side with its helpless, worryingly cold arm, Starsky desperately trying to divert him from what they both knew was potential disaster. He shook his head, but the images remained stubbornly there.

The nurse rested her hand briefly against his face. 

“Try not to worry. He’s in good hands”

He wanted to smash something and shout “Better than mine, anyway!” but like the well brought up Midwestern boy he was, he smiled and said 

‘Thank you for your kindness”

She smiled back, warmed by the courtesy.

“I’ll pop back when I can. Try to rest”

An indeterminate time later, a familiar voice forced him to open his eyes again. 

“Hutch? How’s it going?”

“It’s going”

Dobey sat down next to him, a big, solid grounding presence.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

Hutch slid lower in his chair and closed his eyes. He felt....stretched. Stretched to his limits-as if a puff of wind would shatter him. He needed desperately to hold all the pieces of himself together- and he didn’t know how to do it. He was so very, very tired.

“What do you want to know?”

“Start at the beginning”

Once he started, he couldn’t stop. Dobey listened in silence as the words tumbled out, the whole story of the worst hour of his life. Only when the torrent started to become jumbled and repetitive did the older man reach out a hand and rest it on Hutch’s shoulder.

“Steady, son. Take a breath. You did a terrific job”

Hutch shook off the hand and jumped to his feet so he could pace.

“Did I? Why is Starsky in surgery then? I got suckered like a fucking rookie”

“He’s in surgery because a criminal shot him. 8 other people are alive because you behaved like the skilled professional you are. I’m proud of you”

There was no humor in Hutch’s laugh. 

“I’m not proud of myself”

He had been such a jerk. He was always a bit of a jerk- that was how they rolled. Stealing Starsky’s candy, waiting for him to buy and open another packet then giving the first one back. That sort of thing. But he had no idea why he had said what he had at the restaurant. “I must apologize for my friend here” Starsky had done absolutely nothing to prompt this nastiness, just been his usual friendly warm self. A little flirty, but Starsky was always a little flirty with absolutely everyone - it was part of who he was.

The slightly hurt, puzzled expression that had flashed across his friend’s face was another of the images that were scrolling unstoppably through his brain like movie stills - along with that useless arm, and his own hand unexpectedly covered in blood after touching Starsky’s back for reassurance, the heart stopping sight of the hideous wound so close to his spine, the details of every single one of the other customers all looking to him for rescue when rescue was impossible, the implacable face of the professional killer, so confident and sure of himself, the blood on the carpet. Oh, god- the blood on the carpet.......

Hutch rubbed his eyes until they hurt, desperate to erase the image, but it just came back. No matter how much he paced.

And what had he been doing when he had been suckered like a rookie? He had been searching the juke box for some tacky, touristy mandolin music to mock Starsk about. That’s what he had been doing. And what had Starsky been doing? Using those ridiculously fast reactions to push a civilian out of the line of fire, that’s what. When he could have saved himself.

At long last the doctor came to find them, relaxed and smiling and they were allowed to see Starsky for a minute. He was loopy with anesthetic and painkillers, but was able to manage a half smile for Hutch and almost squeeze his fingers with his left- his left - hand, then show a satisfactory knowledge of the year, his own name and the name of the president for his doctor before determinedly going back to sleep.

“He’ll do well now” the doctor reassured.”We’ll keep him under for the rest of the day just to give the swelling a chance to go down and stay down. He’ll be much more himself this evening”

Dobey took Hutch’s arm firmly.

“Hear that, Hutchinson? Time for you to go home”

“No - can you give me a lift to the office? I need to file my report”

Dobey held up his notebook.

“I’ll take care of that. Got all I need from what you told me earlier. I’m always telling you young officers to learn shorthand. And remember you’re officially suspended while the IA investigate. So go home, rest, then you can come back and hover over your partner this evening”

The thought that he still had a partner to hover over was almost too much for him. He found the payphone and rang Huggy to collect him, then went outside to wait - once again, restlessly pacing. When Huggy arrived, he got in the car, then immediately got out again.

“I’m sorry, Huggy- I shouldn’t have called you. I can’t go home. have to stay here-what if he wakes up? He’ll think.....l

Huggy came round and steered Hutch firmly into the passenger seat.

“Starsky is too sensible to think anything of the sort. And it may surprise you to learn this, but in that big building behind you there are people who earn their living taking care of folk with bullet holes in their bodies. They can manage without your expert assistance. And I hate to tell you, but if you go back in there, nobody is going to believe that is a normal healthy colour, even for a honky - you’d be in intensive care before you can say suffering succotash. We are going back to your place where you are going to shower and eat and sleep for at least 6 hours before you even think about doing anything else”

Huggy started the car and turned it towards Venice, ignoring the anxious protests, and by the time they reached the cottage, Hutch had fallen quiet.

“All right, my man. You go shower”

Huggy watched Hutch move like a silent shadow towards the bathroom, frowning at the wordless passivity that had replaced the jittery ceaseless movement of earlier. He wasn’t sure which worried him most.  
He put the kettle on the stove and started to dig in fridge and cupboards for food more comforting than dried seaweed and blackstrap molasses. 

When Hutch emerged from the bathroom wrapped in his robe, Huggy steered him towards a chair at the table and put a hot mug in his unresisting hands. 

“Tea. With lemon and honey- just the way you like it. And I’m going to scramble us some eggs”

To the amazement of both of them, and to Huggy’s infinite relief, Hutch put down the mug and started to cry.


End file.
